


Eyes Unclouded by the Path: a younger witchers AU

by galactic_roses



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Sex, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 23:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20034079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galactic_roses/pseuds/galactic_roses
Summary: What if Eskel met Letho when they were both younger, less scarred, and less burdened by the dark life of the Path...?(The boys are in their 20's and then 30's in this fic)Thanks to the fantastic Zemyr for beta-reading!





	Eyes Unclouded by the Path: a younger witchers AU

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

Eskel’s hands slipped on the branch, he only just managed to catch himself and haul his shaking body onto the limb. His breath came in shuddering gasps that he tried to smother, fear and anger hammering a rhythm on the underside of his ribs. He’d been stupid, he’d been overconfident… he cursed himself silently and pressed a hand to the cuts on his arm again, attempting to stem the flow of blood. Wraiths didn’t necessarily smell blood, but they could most likely sense it.

Still cursing himself internally and listening for any signs of the monster’s approach, he climbed to a higher branch where he could still see the ground below. He hadn’t been expecting to run into any wraiths so deep in the forest, but when he had approached a tiny, rundown shack earlier, one had appeared just behind him. Training and pure witcher’s instincts had kicked in the moment he heard the sickening metallic shriek, and the silver sword sang as he pulled it from its sheath. The wraith was old and clever for a spirit, and had managed to slice through his confidence quite literally with its own rusted blade. Realizing that he had made a big mistake and was in over his head, Eskel had fled. He’d erred a second time when he hadn’t realized that the wraith was pursuing him, slowly but surely gaining ground, until it had slashed him again, across the back of his shoulders. He’d finally managed to evade it long enough to climb up into a leafy tree, hoping to surprise the monster with a dropped bomb when it passed below him. 

A horrible, metallic screeching echoed from somewhere nearby, sending shivers down Eskel’s spine. The creature screamed again, there was a brief clash of metal, and then silence. Eskel strained to listen. The noises were not what he had been expecting. It sounded almost as if something else had attacked the monster, and whatever it was might be coming for him next. 

A wave of nausea hit him, and he retched slightly, pitching forward and nearly falling off his branch. He’d lost a lot of blood. Fumbling in his pocket, he retrieved a small bottle and popped the cork, downing the contents. The potion began to work as soon as it hit his stomach, its toxicity and healing properties flowing through his veins like liquid lead. Shuddering, he retched again, but managed to keep the vile potion down. Momentarily distracted, he watched his skin lose all the color it had, the veins underneath turning purple and standing out. The sight was still strange to him, as he preferred to avoid potions if he could get away with it. Because of that, he hadn’t seen the full effect of high toxicity on his skin more than a handful of times. 

A branch snapped. Eskel froze, listening hard. The sound of soft, careful footsteps reached his sensitive ears. He held his breath, the air turning to ice in his lungs, and the footsteps drew closer.

“Your blood stinks,” a deep voice said. The words were drawled in a lazy accent that Eskel didn’t recognize. What he did recognize was the scent of leather and the tang of metal, mixed with smoke and musk.

“Don’t try to pretend you’re not up there,” the voice continued. “I can smell the swallow, but you’re still losing blood. Won’t do nothing to you, and the wraith is gone, at least for the moment.” Eskel peeked down through the leaves, and caught sight of a pair of yellow eyes with slit pupils, similar to his own. Another witcher, possibly the only other witcher for miles. As he leaned forward for a better look, the world spun around him. The edges of his vision turned black, and he fell. 

When Eskel came around, he was lying on his side next to a small campfire. The heat made his skin feel tight and dry. Trying his best to push himself up, he felt the numerous cuts all over his body complain as he moved.

“You’re alive then,” a voice growled. Eskel jumped, and felt one of his cuts reopen. He swore, turning to take a better look at the man who had apparently saved his life, and fell abruptly silent. 

The man crouched, looking down at him, pupils wide in the darkness. Even crouching, he was huge, with muscles that bulged and flexed beneath pale, pockmarked skin. Firelight played over broad, blunt features. His jaw was heavy and square, his mouth a thin gash with lower lip slightly fuller than the other. His nose looked like it had been broken a few times. Thin eyebrows drew together across a wide, protruding brow. Eskel’s eyes were drawn upward to a forked scar that ran across the man’s forehead and over the side of his shaved head. Gold winked in one of his earlobes.

“Brain-damaged from the fall maybe,” the man muttered. Eskel bristled.

“I’m not,” he said, trying to sit up all the way. “What happened to the wraith?”

“Got rid of the current manifestation,” the man said as he sat back on his haunches, his expression unreadable. “It’ll be back, though.” 

“They usually don’t,” Eskel said curiously, feeling over his injuries. The cut that had opened was still bleeding sluggishly. Aside from that, he had several other cuts on his arms, and the long slice on his back. He’d had worse maulings, but it was the first time he’d been beaten by a wraith, and it stung. 

“Not a normal wraith,” the man grunted, surprising Eskel from his thoughts. “It’s old, and surprisingly sentient.” The witcher paused, scratching his unshaven chin. 

“Then it has some sort of anchor,” Eskel said, resigned, “and we need to go find it to get rid of the wraith permanently.” He flopped back down into the ground, wincing as the cut on his back twinged. He stared up into the night sky, his view partially blocked by the leafy crowns of the trees, and wondered how he had survived the fall. 

A loud growl from his stomach echoed across the clearing, pulling Eskel from his thoughts. It had been a while since he’d eaten. The strange witcher let out a low noise that could have been a chuckle, and stood. 

“The Path is a hungry life,” he said. “Be happy to share some of what I have.”

“Thanks,” Eskel said from his place on the ground. “I have some dried meat and fruit in my bag. Side pocket.” 

The man seemed perfectly content to rifle through Eskel’s rucksack and let Eskel relax back onto the ground to rest. After a while, the smell of cooking food began to waft around the clearing. Eskel propped himself up and opened his mouth to offer help, but the other witcher waved him away before he could speak and continued to cook. The loud growling of Eskel’s stomach made Eskel flinch, but the stranger just grinned. Eventually, he helped Eskel sit up and handed him some food.

“So who are you, anyway?” Eskel asked a while later, digging into a rabbit haunch. He had almost managed to get up into a sitting position, and even though his veins were still faintly purple, his wounds had started to close up properly. “What school are you from?” 

“Name’s Letho,” the man grunted. “Trained at the School of the Viper. You?” 

“Eskel, School of the Wolf,” Eskel replied through a mouthful of cooked meat. He eyed the other witcher thoughtfully, trying to gauge his age. It had only been nine years since he had left Kaer Morhen, and although he wasn’t completely sure, Letho looked to be roughly his age, maybe a few years older. He was certainly larger and quite a bit taller. Eskel felt almost dwarfed when the man stood and stretched. 

“Rest,” Letho grunted, casting his eyes around the clearing. “I’ll keep watch. You’re gonna need sleep if you want to be able to help with that wraith tomorrow.”

Eskel instinctively started to protest, but a raised eyebrow in his direction made him shut his mouth. Letho was right. The wraith had beaten him well, and he needed to rest. An unprepared witcher was a dead witcher. 

“Thanks for the food,” he said, lying down near the fire but not too close. He curled up on his side and watched the flickering light until his eyes closed.

“It found me nearby,” Eskel muttered to Letho, looking around nervously as they approached the run-down house with cautious, quiet footsteps. Even with mid-morning sunlight dappling the ground, Eskel felt as if the hellish monster was going to appear at any moment. 

“Won’t appear again until sundown,” Letho said, correctly interpreting Eskel’s nerves. “Gives us more than enough time to find the anchor.”

“Alright. Don’t fall through the floor,” Eskel said over his shoulder as he ducked inside. 

The inside of the cottage was covered in dust and leaf litter. It was made up of a single, small room, with a bed and desk on one side and a tiny kitchen and table on the other. Plenty of moss grew on the floor and the ancient, decayed bedspread. The floor was rotten in several places, so they had to step carefully to avoid breaking through. A beam of sunlight that came through the broken roof illuminated a small plant growing in the middle of the room.

Letho picked up a rusted pan while Eskel inspected the desk, jostled a drawer and poked through the rotten papers and old quills. His finger hit something solid and he pulled out an old book. The cover was surprisingly undamaged by age and water, and looked nearly new. Leaning closer and brushing his fingers over the book’s surface, he felt and saw tiny magical signs dancing feebly over the leather. They fell away at his touch, leaving the book unprotected in his hands.

“Found something,” he said, opening the book to the first page. It appeared to be some sort of journal, but Eskel’s stomach clenched at the first entry. Whoever had written it had accidentally spattered the pages with what looked like blood and left bloody fingerprints on the thick paper. Eskel swallowed hard and allowed Letho to pluck the book from his fingers. He read, brow furrowed.

“_‘She screamed particularly beautifully today,’_” Letho quoted, his deep voice making the hairs on Eskel’s arms stand on end. The words sounded even worse out loud. “_‘The color of her blood is stunning, and I do believe I shall never get tired of seeing it.’_” 

Eskel shook his head and looked around. The little room showed no sign of torture. He inhaled deeply, but any residual smell of blood had faded years ago. 

“Gotta be a basement here somewhere,” Eskel muttered. “Maybe there’s an entrance outside.” 

“Why bother with finding an entrance when you can just make one,” Letho said, tucking the book into his pocket. He crooked his middle finger in a casting gesture, Eskel recognized it and dodged behind the larger man, and a moment later a large hole was blown in the rotten floor.

“That wasn’t entirely necessary,” Eskel commented, walking carefully over to look down into the hole. Letho shrugged. 

“Can you tell how deep it is?” Eskel asked. Walking over, Letho peered down, his pupils dilating.

“It’s pretty dark down there,” he said. “Maybe ten feet?” 

“That’s jump-able, I think.”

“Only one way to find out,” Letho grunted, and he jumped. There was a loud thump, then Letho called back up.

“It’s fine, come on down.” 

Eskel took a deep breath, then followed. The landing jarred his legs and ankles and made his healing cuts twinge, but otherwise he was unhurt. He straightened, his pupils opening up to let in as much light as they could, then he wished he couldn’t see at all.

“This explains the wraith,” Letho said, his voice sounding as hollow as Eskel felt. 

The basement room was larger than the shack above, and fully equipped with every torture device Eskel had ever seen or heard of. His stomach rolled. Dark stains on the wooden floor and walls had faded with time, but he could still see them well. Too well. 

Letho spat on the ground and growled angrily before beginning to search the room. Eskel swallowed hard before following suit. They found a small skeleton almost immediately. The woman must have been chained to the wall when she died, but it had been so long ago that the skeleton had fallen to pieces, only the wrist joints hanging in the rusted shackles. Letho crouched by the pile of old bones, picking up the remains of the skull with careful fingers. 

“Shows signs of both blunt force trauma and surface wounds,” Letho muttered, running his fingertips over the bone. “This is our wraith. And here…” He pushed aside the bones cautiously and picked up something that glittered. 

“The anchor,” Eskel finished for him.

“Yep.”

“Let’s get the bones and find the exit, then,” Eskel said, suddenly nervous again. “I smell fresh air coming from over there. Probably a way out.” 

Letho gathered up the woman’s remains and followed Eskel out of the basement. As he’d thought, the damp, cobweb-covered tunnel led to a covered entrance a small distance to the east of the house. 

“We can burn this in front of the house,” Letho said, jerking his head at the bones he carried. Eskel just nodded, his mind still in the horrifying room below the small house. They traipsed around the house and Letho placed the remains and the wedding band in a pile a few steps away from the rotten door. He stepped back and made a sign, and the pile Ignited. The stink of burning metal and cremating bones filled Eskel’s nostrils and he snorted, moving back. He still wasn’t used to the scents of the job, even after several years on the Path. They silently watched the bones burn until they had been reduced to dust, then they knelt together.

“Specter oil?” Eskel asked. 

“Got some here,” Letho replied, fishing for a bottle in his rucksack. They both oiled their blades and set them within reach, then they settled down to meditate until the sun set.

The rattling, metallic screech of the wraith rang out just as the sun disappeared fully behind the horizon. Eskel was on his feet in a blink, blade in hand. He felt for the magic tingling in his veins and buzzing in the air around him and drew on it, feeling energy burst from his fingertips. Glowing purple signs appeared in a wide circle around both him and Letho. The other witcher glanced at him briefly, then they focused on the approaching specter. When the creature was in range, Letho threw a small blue object at it, which exploded. Eskel shielded his eyes, then looked again. The silver fragments in the Moon Dust bomb prevented the monster from turning intangible, and it seemed to be stunned for a moment, then it shook itself and moved forward. Eskel and Letho attacked in unison. 

They worked surprisingly well together for strangers. Letho compensated for Eskel’s occasional mistakes due to his weakened arm, and Eskel in turn took the job of keeping the Yrden circle active, grounding the wraith to slow it down as much as possible. The wraith seemed perplexed as he and Letho paced along the circle trapping it, once its focus turned to Letho, Eskel’s sword bit into it, but if it tried to retaliate against Eskel, Letho was there to cut into its back. They wore it down bit by bit until it crumbled into dust, and as the last Yrden faded from the ground, silence settled in the woods. The witchers nodded at each other, cleaned their blades and assessed the damage. Eskel had gotten another cut on his arm for his trouble, and Letho sported a slice on the left side of his upper lip.

“That could’ve been worse,” Letho said in the sudden quiet.

“Much,” Eskel replied, massaging his aching sword arm. He turned to look at the house. “Do you have any issue with me burning this down?” he asked. Letho shook his head. 

Eskel took a deep breath, centering himself as he stepped forward. His spine tingled. Magic fizzed beneath his skin, calling to the power in the air. He took another deep breath, drawing hard on the magic around him, channeling it down his casting arm and into his fingertips. The Igni sign formed in his mind, and he crooked his index finger in the casting gesture, forcing the energy out in a huge blast of fire that immediately engulfed the shack. Stepping back, he wiped his tingling palm on his pants, satisfied with the result of his casting. When he turned to look at Letho, the other man was staring at him, yellow eyes wide in shock.

“What was that?” Letho asked, his voice sounding a bit shaky. Eskel frowned, the beginnings of confusing tugging at his mind.

“What was what? You guys don’t learn the Igni sign at the School of the Viper?”

Letho shook his head, though more in astonishment than in disagreement.

“No, we do learn it. That wasn’t a typical Igni casting.” 

“Typical enough,” Eskel replied, shrugging and turning away. He didn’t really feel like explaining how magic just worked differently for him than it did for other witchers. A minute of silence passed as Eskel wiped his already clean blade. 

“I was only here for a contract on the wraith,” Letho finally said. “You helped, you should get half the reward.” 

“That would be great,” Eskel replied, “I don’t see enough coin these days, and I see my ribs more than I’d like.” 

Letho let out a wry chuckle. 

“The village is south of here,” he said. “It’s not that far. I’ll show you the way.”

They split the reward in the town and parted ways, Eskel travelling north and Letho heading east. Eskel felt a bit weird being on his own again. Spending time with another witcher, even only a few hours, had reminded him of the camaraderie he’d had with his fellow witchers-in-training back at Kaer Morhen. He missed his friend Geralt.

_Witchers are solitary creatures,_ he reminded himself, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. _I’ll be fine. _

Eskel had only been in the tree for a moment, trying to get a bearing on his location, when the pack of wolves caught his scent. They crowded around the tree trunk, growling and snapping up at him, their yellow eyes glowing in the fading light. Strands of saliva dripped from their fanged mouths.

“How ironic,” Eskel muttered, reaching for his crossbow. “A witcher from the School of the Wolf trapped in a tree by a pack of wolves. Ironic, and irritating.” 

He had been on the Path for nearly twenty years now, and a pack of wolves, however threatening in appearance, was nothing more than an annoyance. His position in the tree was a bit awkward as he aimed the crossbow, moving so he had a clearer shot. The bolt whistled through the air and embedded itself if a wolf’s skull. The creature dropped. The other wolves danced around and snarled, startled by the sudden death of one of their comrades, and Eskel took advantage of their unease. He jumped down, steel sword singing out of its sheath, and attacked in earnest. With the tree solid at his back, Eskel made quick work of the beasts. 

As the last animal fell to his blade, someone stepped out from behind a nearby tree. Taken by surprise, Eskel leveled the blade at the stranger and crooked his free hand into a spell-casting gesture.

“Mean no harm,” the shadow drawled, showing empty hands. Despite the many years that had passed, Eskel remembered that voice. He lowered the blade, though he didn’t put it away quite yet. 

“Letho?” he asked, confused and a bit taken aback by the man’s sudden appearance. 

“Fancy finding you here,” Letho replied, moving closer, his sharp, yellow eyes trained on Eskel’s face. “Saw you up a tree again, just like last time.”

“Weird coincidence,” Eskel muttered, wiping and sheathing his blade. “Why are you out here?”

“Contract. Why else?”

Eskel eyed him suspiciously for a moment, wondering if he should confess his situation. He decided he probably should.

“Dunno,” he finally said, rubbing the tip of his nose. “I’m actually a bit lost. Never been in this area before.” 

Letho stared at him for a moment, then a crooked smile spread across his thin mouth. He had grown even larger in the years that had passed since Eskel met him, his muscles bulging and flexing as he shifted in place. A few new scars showed on his face, and his beard stubble was thicker and darker than it had been. His face looked weathered, more withdrawn, though the grin made his eyes sparkle wickedly. Eskel liked his smile, and found himself returning it. 

“I can take you to the nearest town, unless you wanna help with the contract again,” Letho drawled, his deep voice amused. “Wouldn’t mind the assistance.”

“The coin would be nice, if you’re willing to share,” Eskel said thoughtfully, reaching up to touch his wolf medallion. Yellow eyes followed the movement, then met Eskel’s gaze.

“If you’re helpful, I won’t mind,” the other witcher said slowly, lifting his broad shoulders in a shrug. “Tracking a fiend.”

Eskel raised his eyebrows, remembering the stories Vesemir had told them during training. 

“That’s a big job,” he said. “I’ve only ever dealt with a chort before. Do you have any bombs?” 

Three round objects appeared in Letho’s large, scarred palm.

“And I have two,” Eskel said, “as well as my signs. We probably won’t die then.”

Letho chuckled. “Probably not. C’mon, this way.”

Eskel was happy to follow the other witcher deeper into the forest, moving silently among the trees. He cast around, finding the tracks Letho was following, and was surprised that he hadn’t noticed them before, although being confused and lost most likely contributed to the oversight. As the darkness in the forest grew, he dilated his pupils to catch more light, listening carefully for any strange noises.

Letho moved with the grace and silence of a dancer, despite his size. He was fast, too, but Eskel could keep up with him fairly easily. When he paused, Eskel paused, and he was reminded of their dance with the wraith. They worked just as well together now as they had back then, no words were needed. A faint, musky scent tickled his nostrils and he inhaled, memorizing the aroma in case he ever encountered it again. 

“Its lair is nearby,” Letho murmured, his voice a soft hum in the silence. “If we catch it by surprise we’ll have better odds.” He eyed Eskel for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“Your signs were useful last time,” he continued, “but Aard won’t be effective. Try Igni instead. If we can scare it enough it might run into a tree or the cave wall and stun itself long enough for us to kill it. Let’s hope for that.”

“Lead the way,” Eskel replied, his voice equally quiet, his heart skipping a beat or two at the casual praise. “I’ll be right behind you.”

When they crept up to the cave entrance where the beast had its lair, they found that it was empty. Muttering curses, Eskel looked around for fresh signs of the monster’s passage.

“No need,” Letho grunted. “Have any crow’s eye?” 

After a moment of searching, Eskel produced a small jar of the ingredient. Letho took it carefully and pulled out a small piece, then returned the jar to Eskel. He looked cautiously around, then moved inside the cave. Eskel stayed where he was, keeping watch in case the fiend decided to return. A gentle breeze brought him the scent of the fiend’s lair, and he wrinkled his nose. With the smell of dung and musk came the sudden and surprisingly pungent smell of crushed crow’s eye, and a breath later, the tang of blood joined the mix. 

Letho jogged silently out of the cave, beckoning for Eskel to follow him. They ran up behind the cave’s entrance to a sheltered spot where they could see everything around them, but they wouldn’t be easily spotted by anything. They greased their silver swords with relict oil and sat down to wait. 

The sounds of grunting and rustling leaves alerted the two witchers to the fiend’s approach. Eskel tried to peek through the bushes, curious to see the creature, but Letho grabbed his collar and hauled him back, grinning wryly. Embarrassed, Eskel had to be satisfied with listening to the monster’s movements. They waited until the beast was inside the cave, drawn by the lure, before they moved around to the cave’s entrance once more.

_Get ready, _Letho mouthed, pulling a bomb from his pocket. Judging the distance and angle of their position, Letho touched the fuse with Igni and lobbed it inside the cave. The resulting explosion shattered the quiet air with a bang that made Eskel’s ears ring. He could hardly hear the fiend roar in fear and pain, and as it came stampeding out of the entrance, Eskel could see why Letho had warned him to stay out of sight. If they had rushed out to take it on, they would have been flattened.

Eskel followed Letho as if they had done this a hundred times before. Side by side they stalked forward, unseen and unheard, until they could swing their silver swords at the fiend’s legs in perfectly synchronized arcs, their blades biting deep into its limbs. Blood sprayed out of the cuts, showering the ground with thick, red liquid. Eskel danced back and saw Letho do the same, retreating away from the monster’s crushing paws. For a moment, the beast’s antlered head swiveled between the two men, sizing them up, then it decided Letho was more threatening and turned toward him. It stood still briefly, then bounded forward. Letho froze, his eyes wide, seemingly stuck. Yelling with anger and fear for his companion, Eskel crooked his hand and drew on the magic in the air around him as a drowning man draws in his last breath. A gout of fire exploded from his hand to lash across the fiend’s flanks, causing the beast to howl and skid to a halt, and in the few seconds of its pain and confusion, Letho managed to free himself from whatever had stuck him to the spot. He sprang aside, rolling out of the creature’s path as it turned on Eskel.

They continued to harry the beast in this fashion, working it into a blind rage. Despite their earlier efforts, the cuts in its legs had ceased to bleed, and Eskel remembered, with a thrill of dread, that fiends were said to have regenerative abilities. 

“It regenerates!” Eskel yelled, dodging a swipe from a huge, clawed paw. “We need to stun it somehow! Get its attention!” 

Letho did not reply, though Eskel knew that he had heard because he cast Igni, the fire hitting the creature’s already burnt hindquarters. The scream that issued from the fiend was even worse than before, rising to a piercing shriek that sent chills down his spine and arms. The beast swiveled and charged Letho, still screaming, and the witcher barely managed to dodge in time. 

Eskel inhaled deeply, pulling on the magic he could feel around and inside him, drawing it into his skin and channeling it into the crooked fingers of his left hand. He yelled and cast the sign. Once again, a blast of fire burst from his fingertips and hit the monster, burning muscle and hair as it licked across the humped back. Driven mad by the noises and pain, the fiend shook its head and charged at Eskel, drool trailing from its huge, gaping mouth. Eskel was ready for it. He tossed a bomb into the air and rolled aside, jumping up to light the fuse in midair with a well-aimed Igni. 

His timing had been perfect. 

The bomb exploded just in front of the fiend’s face before it could stop, and it howled, blundering blindly ahead, only to crash into a large tree. Screaming in fury and pain, it turned around again, massive claws striking blindly at everything within reach.

“Go for the jugular while it’s blind,” Letho yelled, jumping forward and swinging his sword in a downward chopping motion at a flailing limb, since a fiend could kill even when blinded. The silver bit into flesh, and a shower of dark crimson fell to the forest floor. Eskel leapt away from the other foreleg and managed to deal a fatal blow to the side of the beast’s neck, his sword biting deep into muscle and bone. With an enormous effort, he yanked his blade free and staggered back. The fiend tried to howl, gurgled, then dropped to the ground, its lifeblood sinking into the moss beneath its body.

Eskel lowered his blade and stared at the fiend’s corpse, then looked up at Letho. The other man looked a bit surprised by the creature’s sudden death.

“That’s certainly easier with two of us,” Letho said. “It must be a young one, adult fiends are a bit larger.

“Larger? Fighting one alone must be pretty rough,” Eskel replied, wiping his sword on his pants. He remembered the instinctive fear that had gripped his body when the fiend turned on him, and shuddered. Rumors and tales always said that fear was stripped from witchers during their mutations. Any witcher who was asked would say that it was true, and most witchers were lying. They could still feel the fear, it just wouldn’t have any hold on them. The two men continued to stare at the monster for a minute as the adrenaline dropped, then Letho moved forward and poked its flank with a booted toe.

“Too bad it’s not good eating,” he muttered. “That’s a lot of meat going to waste.” 

“Do we need to take a trophy?” Eskel asked, looking over the beast’s horned head. It was very large, and would be a pain to take back to whatever village had issued the contract. Instead of answering, Letho stepped forward and began to hack away at the remainder of the fiend’s neck. Sighing, Eskel moved over to help.

They walked back to civilization in silence. Letho carried the trophy as easily as if it weighed nothing, still walking with cat-like grace between the trees. Eskel walked behind the other man, watching him absently as the trees thinned. The muscles beneath the man’s pale skin rippled with each movement. Eskel breathed in, sorting through the stink of the fiend to catch the more subtle scents emanating from Letho’s skin. The bouquet of smells was familiar, yet different. He could smell leather, metal, alchemical ingredients, and sweat. Beneath all that was the scent of Letho himself, a unique, musky aroma that Eskel quite liked.

While Eskel was focused on the scents around him, they had reached the edge of the forest. Sunlight hit his face, and he blinked, constructing his pupils until he could see comfortably.

“This way,” Letho grunted, beginning to wade into the field of grass before them. A bit embarrassed about his lapse into distraction, Eskel followed. 

Villagers stared, mouths agape, as Eskel and Letho walked into the little town. They hurried their children inside, and the road cleared. Eskel thought that after nearly twenty years of being a witcher, he would have gotten used to that reaction, but it still irked him

“Convenient, huh?” Letho said to Eskel, an amused glint in his eyes. Eskel shrugged in response, ignoring the slight warmth that spread through his chest at the look.

The disgust on the village headman’s face when presented with the fiend’s head was so pronounced it was almost comical. Eskel smothered a snort and stepped back, letting Letho talk to the man. After a brief conversation, the man handed Letho a pouch and turned away, gesturing to the trophy and speaking quickly to his companion. Letho shot a look at the two peasants, then walked back to Eskel, tossing the pouch up and down in one hand. 

“Managed to wrangle a few extra coins,” Letho said as they left the building. 

“Fantastic,” Eskel replied, pleased at the prospect of a bit more money. He had been saving up for a horse for many years, and maybe the extra from this would finally get him enough to purchase a proper animal. The coins clinked as Letho split the reward and handed Eskel his share.

“I really appreciate this,” Eskel said, pocketing the money. 

“No problem,” Letho drawled, shoving the pouch into his own pocket. “Want to pick up some supplies and move on?” 

“Sounds great.” 

Night had fallen over the forest when Eskel finally reclined against a tree trunk, his stomach comfortably full. A small fire danced by his feet, illuminating Letho’s blunt features and making his earring glitter. The man sat across from Eskel, looking pensively into the firelight and rubbing the stubble on his chin. After a moment, he looked up, meeting Eskel’s gaze.

“Thanks for your help today,” Letho said, watching Eskel’s face. Eskel shrugged lazily, picking a piece of rabbit out of his teeth.

“No problem,” he replied. “Thanks for sharing the reward.”

Letho shrugged too, eyes still on Eskel’s expression. A shiver ran down Eskel’s spine that had nothing to do with the slight chill in the air. He broke the eye contact and shifted into a more comfortable position. When he looked up again, Letho was still looking at him.

“Something on my face?” Eskel asked, rubbing his cheek. All he felt was the roughness of his stubble. Shaking his head, Letho continued to stare. A faint heat began to creep into his cheeks. Deciding to take a gamble, Eskel leaned forward toward the fire and the other man, allowing half a smile to tug at his lips. “Something you want, then?”

Surprise showed briefly on Letho’s features, then disappeared, replaced by amusement.

“Possibly,” he drawled slowly, something in his voice making Eskel shiver again. “Was thinking how it’s been too long since I had the company of another person.”

“Been a long time for me too,” Eskel said, swallowing the sudden nervousness that bubbled into his throat. The yellow eyes across the fire were still intent upon his face. 

“Been even longer since…” Letho paused, the silence stretching for long seconds. Something jumped in Eskel’s guts as Letho’s voice lowered from its normal baritone to something deeper, almost primal in nature. “Well, since I’ve had the pleasure in indulging myself in another’s… presence.” 

“Are you suggesting something?” Eskel asked, leaning back again and sounding much lazier than he felt. Letho didn’t respond immediately to the challenge, but the glint in his eyes showed an unmistakable interest.

“Guess I’m making a proposition,” he said eventually, his voice deep and rumbling, “if you’re interested.”

“I might be,” Eskel managed to say after swallowing down some of the butterflies that were fluttering about in his stomach. “I could probably stand a little convincing.”

Letho’s teeth flashed in the firelight and he stood, unfurling his body with deliberate slowness. The fluttering in Eskel’s stomach increased as Letho made his way around the fire. For such a big man he moved gracefully, and Eskel could not help but imagine how a touch from such a man would feel upon his skin. He stared straight ahead at the fire, feeling the other man sit down next to him. Calloused fingers touched his cheek, turning Eskel’s head gently until he was looking into Letho’s face. There was a strange, hungry look in Letho’s eyes as he bent forward and pressed his lips to Eskel’s, his mouth hot and soft. Eskel let out an involuntary gasp and kissed him back, a feverish desire surging up into his throat. A large hand cupped the back of his head, fingers fisting in his hair, and Letho tilted his head back, delving into Eskel’s mouth with a warm, slick tongue.

Eskel clung to Letho’s shoulders, feeling the massive muscles flex under his fingers and letting himself sink into the smothering heat of the kiss. Gasping for breath, Eskel climbed awkwardly into Letho’s lap and straddled his broad thighs, enjoying the feeling of the big hands reaching around to cup his ass. Leather squeaked against leather as Letho pulled Eskel tight against his body, the friction between them causing heat to spike in Eskel’s stomach. It had been many months since he’d had any sort of contact with another human, and his body was reacting accordingly. He could feel the tightness in his pants pressing painfully against Letho’s lower belly, and he shifted, the friction making him bite his lip to stifle a gasp.

Letho chuckled against Eskel’s lips. His hands crept lower, fumbling at the ties that secured Eskel’s trousers, and a moment later Eskel felt some relief as his pants loosened around his straining erection. He looked down, wondering for a moment how such big fingers could be so deft, then his mind drifted to consider what else those clever fingers could be doing if only there was less clothing involved. 

“Gods,” Eskel moaned, trying to find purchase on the leather of Letho’s armor. A hand pulled his underclothes down and thick fingers wrapped around his length, the touch sending thrills over his skin. 

“Very nice,” Letho murmured. “Larger than I expected.” 

“Everyone says that,” Eskel complained, frustrated both by the comment and by the building pressure in his groin. “Why is it so surprising?” 

The rest of his complaining was lost in another moan as Letho began to stroke his fingers over the skin of Eskel’s shaft, slow and teasing. The touch felt good, but it wasn’t enough for Eskel.

“Do it properly,” Eskel growled deep in his throat. 

“Patience,” Letho replied, grinning. He undid his own pants and pulled out his erection, which was a bit shorter but substantially thicker than Eskel’s. A bottle appeared in the man’s free hand. Eskel let out a low sound of longing as the other man took both of their cocks in his other hand, pressing them together. The heat of the contact was almost too much for Eskel, who bit back another noise and fought the urge to wriggle against the touch. Oil dripped over Letho’s fist, running over and down their heated skin, and Letho pumped his hand, spreading the oil. The slippery touch felt incredible. Eskel grabbed at Letho’s shoulders, licked along his neck, and rutted against Letho’s fist, the slick sounds from his movements muffled between their bodies. Nothing he did was enough. He wanted to feel Letho in every way, wanted the man to take and plunder until his brain was numb and his body full and sated. 

“Not… enough,” Eskel grunted. He slipped from Letho’s grasp and scooted off his lap, making sure not to land in the fire. The grass was soft beneath him as he let himself fall gently back onto the ground and wriggled out of his pants.

“C’mon,” he said as he slapped himself on a muscled buttock, his voice teasing despite the building ache in his balls, and he lifted his knees coyly into the air in case Letho needed further encouragement. Letho let out a gravelly bark of laughter. He was on top of Eskel in a blink, his thick waist parting Eskel’s thighs. His erection pressed into the crease at Eskel’s hip, hot against the sensitive skin.

“I wanna be inside you,” Letho growled against Eskel’s neck, hands roaming over his body, pulling his shirt over his head. 

“Then fuck me,” Eskel said with a moan, bucking his hips. A wordless snarl ripped from the other man’s throat. Letho yanked off his own shirt, propped himself up, gripped Eskel’s hips and lifted him up into a better position, then rubbed leftover oil liberally over Eskel’s ass. A moment later, Eskel whined as he felt the pressure of Letho’s erection against his entrance, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim, and Letho obliged his unspoken demand. He thrust slowly, letting Eskel adjust to his length inch by inch, until his hips were pressed firmly against Eskel’s ass, filling him completely.

“You alright?” Letho asked softly, cupping Eskel’s cheek with a trembling hand. Eskel nodded, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glassy.

“Please,” Eskel mouthed, reaching up to grip the back of Letho’s neck. Letho bent obediently and kissed him hard, beginning to move his hips so slowly that Eskel wanted to bite him. He tried to use his heels as leverage against Letho’s ass, but the other witcher just chuckled, the deep sound rumbling all the way to Eskel’s toes even as Letho shook his head and kept up the slow, grinding pace. Tendrils of pleasure began to worm their way into Eskel’s lower belly. The warmth spreading into his limbs and down into his fingers as their bodies moved together.

“Faster,” Eskel demanded breathlessly, digging his fingernails into the back of Letho’s neck, thumb pressed gently to the artery below the man’s jaw. “Fuck me like you mean it.” 

“Like I mean it?” Letho drawled. His hips snapped and Eskel cried out, the sudden spike of pleasure rendering him speechless. “Like that?”

Something seemed to break inside Letho, and he began to thrust in earnest, burying himself inside Eskel again and again as Eskel writhed beneath him, gasping and moaning incoherently.

Leaning down, Letho swallowed his cries with a deep, hungry kiss, then pulled back. He placed a large hand carefully around Eskel’s throat, and tightened his fingers. Fireworks exploded behind Eskel’s eyes, and he gasped, feeling his body tighten. His muscles strained, pleasure building inside him like a rising wave. This was what he had wanted, what he had been longing for, to be filled and pressed against another person, to feel a heartbeat under his fingers that matched the one thrumming desperately beneath the grip around his neck, to have ecstasy wrung from his body until he forgot his own name.

“A little… tighter,” Eskel wheezed. The hand around his throat tightened, and he fought for breath, his body threatening release. Light burst in his vision. Pure, blissful pleasure flooded his mind and body and he came hard, his ass clenching around Letho’s length as thick ropes of cum shot from the tip of his cock. Letho reached between them and pumped his hand around Eskel’s softening erection, milking the last drops of release from his body, only stopping when Eskel began to wince. Afterglow bathed Eskel in a soft warmth, and he relaxed, then he remembered that Letho still needed his own release. Instead of wasting breath on speech, he met the man’s questioning eyes and nodded, his chest still heaving. He could take it. Letho was close, he had to be.

Letho inhaled sharply, then he grunted and thrust his hips roughly a few more times before climax finally seized him. He buried himself up to the hilt and pushed his face into the side of Eskel’s neck to stifle a moan, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. Eskel could feel the man’s cock throbbing inside him as his hot seed spilled into Eskel’s body. They stayed like that for a long, comfortable moment, then Letho pushed himself up and gently pulled his softening cock from Eskel’s abused entrance. He flopped down on the ground.

“You okay?” Letho wheezed, patting Eskel’s forearm. Eskel let out a long sigh.

“Yeah,” he replied, voice hoarse. “Doing pretty good, actually.” 

Letho chuckled quietly. 

“Good to hear.”

Minutes passed. The two witchers lay in silence for a while, the warmth from the afterglow fading from their sweaty bodies. When the chill of the air began to set into his muscles, Eskel got up and pulled on his pants. He moved to stoke the fire, using a few logs and another shot of Igni to give it more life. Crouching next to the heat, he raised his hands and warmed his fingers for a moment, thinking about what they had just done. He felt more satisfied than he had in a long time, the dull ache in his abdomen reminding him that he would probably be pretty sore the next morning. A grin spread across his face. He felt great. 

His gaze traveled across the clearing to land on Letho. The man was stretched out on the ground, hands behind his shaved head. He hadn’t even bothered to do up his pants, and his cock lay on his stomach, still shiny with oil. Even in this relaxed state, both Letho and his cock were an impressive sight. Eskel’s eyes moved up Letho’s torso, taking in the muscles and scars of his chest and arms. A moment later, Letho’s eyelids lifted. He met Eskel’s gaze, the skin next to his eyes crinkling as he grinned, his teeth flashing. Eskel grinned back, and moved back over to lay down next to the other man, not too close, but close enough to be companionable. 

“Thanks for humoring me,” Letho drawled. Eskel laughed, feeling warm all over. 

“Thanks for making it fun for me too,” he replied, shifting into a more comfortable position as sleep threatened to drag him under.

“No problem.”

Eskel woke as the sun rose, and was puzzled for a moment to find his body aching and his mind surprisingly peaceful. That only lasted until he sat up and the ache concentrated around his ass, bringing yesterday’s events back in vivid detail. He rolled his hips experimentally, only to earn himself a chuckle from Letho, who was preparing breakfast at the fire. Eskel looked at him, unable to keep the satisfied smile off his face, and the other witcher looked smug as he patted the ground next to himself, before piling warm leftover food into a bowl and holding it out to him. Eskel shuffled over and found the softest patch of grass to rest his sore bottom on, then accepted the dish. They ate breakfast in a comfortable silence. Afterwards, Letho wordlessly refused any help to clean up, so Eskel just got to his feet and gathered his things. 

“Thanks for everything,” he said as he slung his sword belt over his shoulder. “Until next time.”

Letho nodded, looked him up and down, and a crooked grin spread across his face. “I can’t wait.”


End file.
